


Through the Stars

by mugsandpugs



Category: Tokyo Mew Mew
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Planet, F/F, F/M, Novella, Outer Space, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, War, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs
Summary: Nine years after the events of the anime, Ichigo, Minto, Retatsu, Bu-Ling, and Zakuro work as study aids and test subjects for Japan's largest space travel industry, JAXA. The world is still terrified after the first alien invasion, and determined to prevent it from ever happening again.Ryou is a missing (wanted) person; Masaya is acting strange, and Bu-Ling is having strange dreams about an alien child she'd once been friends with.When the Mews are sent into space with the orders to find planet Cyclon and report their weaknesses back to earth for mass extinction, they must decide what's truly right, and what it means to be a traitor to their people.





	1. Bu-Ling Fong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the wiki is so extremely unhelpful on the character bios, I'm going with my own headcanons for the characters' ages. You don't have to agree with me; it doesn't really matter; but here's where we're at for this particular story.
> 
> Anime Zakuro - 18  
> Fic Zakuro - 27
> 
> Anime Retatsu/Lettuce - 16  
> Fic Retatsu - 25
> 
> Anime Minto/Mint - 15  
> Fic Minto - 24
> 
> Anime Ichigo - 15  
> Fic Ichigo - 24
> 
> Anime Pudding/Bu-Ling - 13  
> Fic Bu-Ling - 22

**Japanese Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA)**

**Chōfu, Tokyo**

**0500 Hours**

* * *

 

"Why do we have to do testing so _early?"_ Ichigo whined. Ever the cat, she detested waking before noon more than anything in the world. She looked exhausted and pitiful; her strawberry hair a rat's nest; deep circles ringing her eyes.

Minto, an early bird, had no such trouble with their hours. She sipped barium from a teacup with her pinkie poised high, her hair slicked into two neatly coiled braids, all the better to hide beneath a shower cap.

"Because," she replied, setting her cup into its saucer with a demure ‘clink.’ "These are fasting labs. It's easier to skip breakfast and go right into testing than it is to go an entire waking day without food."

Zakuro said nothing, but then, she so rarely did. She stayed close to Minto's side; a silent guardian wolf who watched the world through mistrustful violet eyes. She didn't touch her barium until Minto poured a glass of the thick red syrup and passed it over. Only then did she drink without complaint.

Former supermodel Zakuro Fujiwara made the paper gowns they all wore look elegant and purposeful. Bu-Ling knew she herself looked like a child swimming in the material. Though now twenty-two years old, the Chinese woman was still the smallest member of the otherwise Japanese Mew Mews, barely cracking five feet. Perhaps the golden tamarin monkey genetics she’d been unwillingly spliced with stunted her growth. More likely, she was just naturally petite.

The door to their small, cream-colored dining room suddenly lid open on well-oiled hinges, and in hastened a very distressed-looking Retatsu Midorikawa, her frizzy braids swinging wildly, her gown falling over one shoulder.

She panted hard, having sprinted all the way from the parking lot. Her glasses fogged from exertion. "I'm so sorry to be late, everybody!" she apologized, bowing deeply. "I slept through my alarm again..."

This happened often, but accident-prone Retatsu was the world's biggest sweetie. Only a truly heartless cretin could ever be angry with her.

With the synchronized ease of five women who'd worked together almost half their lives, Zakuro took Retatsu's hands and pulled her close to fix the clasps of her gown. When she was done, Minto forced her into a chair, stood behind her, and unearthed a comb from her purse to fix her braids. Bu-ling measured and poured a glass of barium for her to drink.

When Minto finished braiding, Ichigo tugged her arm. "Do mine, too."

"What's the magic word?" Minto folded her arms and made a grumpy face. 

Ichigo flashed an enormous smile; all pointed fangs and cunningly flashing eyes. Had her long black tail been on the outside of her body at that moment, Bu-Ling knew the tip would be flickering playfully. "Pleeeeease?"

Minto gave in. She always did. Bicker as they might, she and Ichigo were closer than sisters.

She had just secured Ichigo's hair with a thin plastic band that wouldn't interrupt their testing when the door to their dining room again slid open.

Bu-Ling resisted a groan. Apparently, the scientist assigned to them that day was Dr. Itō. He was her least favorite of all the scientists working the Mew Project. Tall and thin as a pencil with a receding gray hairline, the man had an equally thin, humorless mouth. Every wrinkle on his face sagged downwards in the shape of a frown. She didn't think he was capable of smiling.

"Girls, if you're quite ready, we need to get a move on. I don't have all day."

 _Girls._ Honestly. The oldest of the five, Zakuro, was almost twenty-seven years old! What; just because they didn't have fancy degrees like him, did they not qualify as equals in his eyes? They'd once saved the planet, and the lives of every single person on it -- including his! They worked here as a favor to JAXA; not the other way around!

As though thinking the same thing, Minto growled under her breath. She seemed to calm when Zakuro pressed a gentle hand to her back.

Retatsu hopped to her feet and gave another bow, her glasses sliding off her nose as she did so. They would have hit the floor had Ichigo's catlike reflexes not saved them in the nick of time. Retatsu's fair skin stained crimson with embarrassment.

"We're ready, doctor," Zakuro replied in her even, low voice.

Dr. Itō nodded, clutched his clipboard to his chest, and turned to walk down the long tile hallway, trusting them to follow.

Retatsu's social anxiety had eased somewhat since their high school days -- being an internationally recognized superhero did wonders for the self esteem -- but she was still a shy creature. Bu-Ling wasn't at all surprised when her hand was snatched by the part-time mermaid as they left their private quarters and entered a more crowded office space, full of hundreds of cubicles filled with people typing on computers. The IT portion of the building always looked to Bu-Ling like a very monochrome beehive.

She probably felt exposed, wearing only paper and slippers around all these professionally dressed strangers pretending not to stare at them. Not a single JAXA employee thought of the five as young women with feelings. They weren't _truly_ human anymore... Right? What should a walking, talking fish care for modesty?

Bu-Ling gave the other woman's hand a reassuring squeeze, holding tight until they'd descended several dozen floors in a glass elevator to reach the much emptier labs; the large, heavy double-doors of which Dr. Itō unlocked with a swipe of his keycard. Though initially designed for treating and rehabilitating injured astronauts, the Japanese government (and military) had supplied JAXA with eyebrow-raising quantities of money to house, study, and test the Mew Mews; the five saviours of their planet.

What the government _really_ wanted was Ryou Shirogane, the man who'd created the Mews, but as soon as the war against Cyclon drew to a close, he'd disappeared without a trace. The next best thing was to study the Mews themselves; to unveil the secrets of their origins.

The world had been threatened by an alien invasion once. People were terrified at the possibility it could happen again, now that they were aware earth wasn’t the only planet with intelligent, dangerous life. No defense was too extreme. Sometimes Bu-Ling wondered, if she hadn't consented to being tested and experimented on, whether they might not have forced her anyway. 'For the good of the country. For the good of the world.'

Some days, Bu-Ling was proud to be a Mew. Others, she wanted to hunt Shirogane down and strangle him for doing this to her; for doing this to all of them. She’d been a small child when he targeted her. She hadn’t been given the option to say no. None of them had.

Lab Assistant Gupta, on loan from the Indian Institute of Space Science and Technology, greeted the five Mews when Dr. Itō led them into the ultrasound chamber; a small, dark room containing five sizable glass pillars that ran from floor to ceiling. Each cylinder was full of viscous, clear liquid the exact texture and consistency of warm snot.

"Hello, doctor," the heavyset Indian woman greeted, her long black ponytail falling over her shoulder when she bowed her head. Bu-Ling had always liked her soft accent. It was good not to be the only immigrant sometimes.

"Assistant Gupta. You'll take it from here?"

"Yes, sir. The results should be ready in three hours."

"Very good." Task completed, Dr. Itō left them, closing the door behind himself. Assistant Gupta ducked her head and typed away into her iPad for a few minutes as the Mews put their things -- Minto’s purse; Retatsu’s glasses -- into a cubby and donned shower caps to protect their hair; goggles for their eyes; plugs for their ears.

When they reached for oxygen masks, she looked up and stopped them. “Ms. Fujiwara, I need you in full animal form,” she explained, and pulled a cup-shaped oxygen mask from a crate by her chair, designed to fit over the muzzle of a large dog. “I think this will fit you better than your last attempt.”

Once, only Ichigo had been able to achieve full animal transformation. However, in the years that followed, all five Mews had been able to completely transform. It had simply taken time and practice. The last time they’d received full-body ultrasounds, Bu-Ling had been the one in animal form; an oxygen mask meant for a human baby attached to her face.

Without a word, Zakuro dropped her gown, where it crumpled at her feet. A moment later her spine cracked and lengthened, a tail breaking from her skin as her bones reshaped themselves into something canid. Her ears grew longer; curving outwards. Hair sprouted thicker and darker along her skin, while the hair from her scalp receded. 

The facial transformation was the most disturbing part; watching her jaw elongate and her teeth sharpen and resituate. By that point, her shortening legs knocked her down onto all fours. Her bowed head hid the worst of it.

In less than five seconds, a gray wolf stood in Zakuro’s stead. She sank to her haunches, shoulder against Minto’s leg, and waited patiently for Assistant Gupta to cover her mouth, nose, eyes, and other orifices with patches, plastics, and of course the mask.

Zakuro was a tall, well-proportioned woman in her human form but in this body, she weighed only about eighty pounds. Assistant Gupta lifted her easily and carried her to one of the five tanks.

"I'm going to put you in now," said Assistant Gupta. Despite them having explained it to her many times, the woman had a hard time accepting that their animal brains were identical to their human ones; that they could understand everything she said. She talked nervously, as though afraid of the wolf in her arms.

Zakuro wagged her tail-- something she only ever did to reassure the other woman. Retatsu aided the scientist in opening the door on the side of the cylinder as she pushed the wolf inside of the goop, carefully adjusting the pipes of her breathing tubes in the through the glass. 

The trio of red lights at the base of the cylinder turned green, one at a time, as Zakuro's systems were logged. She was fine. She was breathing fine. Her heart was beating at an acceptable rate without a trace of distress. If any of that changed, Gupta would be alerted immediately. She'd hit an emergency release button, and the tank would fall open, all the fluid draining into the grated floor in seconds. It was perfectly safe, but still unsettling.

Bu-Ling stared at the motionless, calm wolf suspended eerily in her tube of dense goo. It would take forever to wash that stuff off of her. Much simpler to just kiss her so she could return to her human body and shower herself off.

Ichigo was next. "How far along do you want me?" she asked. The scientists liked to study the girls at every state of their transformations.

"Stage three," Assistant Gupta replied. Bu-ling winced. Whereas stage one was fully human and stage four was fully animal, stage two involved a change of ears and tails (and, in Minto's case, wings), and stage three was...

"The creepy one; got it." Ichigo nodded. A handful of seconds later she stood covered in glossy black fur, her eyes enormous and glowing red in her skull. Though her pupils were now slits, said pupils were wide open to take in the dim room’s lighting; round enough to (almost) look human, rather than demonic.

She still had a human's pelvis to stand upright on two legs, but her spine had lengthened to allow a tail, and her toes were curled and hooked, claws tapping the tiled floor like a velociraptor's in a dinosaur movie. She was considerably smaller now; shorter even than Bu-Ling. 

She opened her mouth to talk, but no longer possessed human lips to form the shape of words. Her nightmare forest of pointed teeth didn’t help matters. "Ih is ood?"

"Yes, Ms. Momomiya; that's perfect."

Assistant Gupta took Ichigo’s arm and led her to her own tank. Ichigo's claws made situating her oxygen mask difficult, so the scientist did it for her, taking her paper gown as the black-furred human/wildcat climbed a short ladder and sank into her tube like it was a jacuzzi.

The weight of Ichigo’s body naturally sank her to the midpoint of the tube, where she hung immobile as the wolf to her right. A second later, her trio of red lights glowed green, too. It took Assistant Gupta, Minto, and Bu-Ling’s combined efforts to get Retatsu into her tube when she adopted her mermaid’s tail (because she breathed through gills, rather than lungs, her breathing apparatus was bulkier and more complicated than the others). Minto herself looked like a naked angel when she flapped her feathery wings and flew into her own cylinder, her hollow bones refusing to sink until her feathers grew weighty from all the goo. Bu-Ling, as always, was last.

She was energetic (some would say hyperactive) to a fault, and grew easily claustrophobic. Being stuck in a tube, unable to breathe, reminded her viscerally of being a child, trapped in a collapsing cavern with a kidnapping alien as she slowly suffocated...

"Ms. Fong?" Assistant Gupta rubbed Bu-Ling's back consolingly. "Are you having flashbacks again?"

All of the Mews suffered some degree of PTSD. Of course they did; they'd been civilian teenagers thrust into an otherworldly war they had no business fighting. She’d watched people die. Heck; she’d seen Ichigo herself die, growing cold and blue before her eyes!

Bu-Ling had only recently learned the way she freaked out sometimes; the weird things she and her friends felt compelled to do in order to feel safe; had a name. They classified as textbook examples of a disorder.

Because Assistant Gupta was kind and understanding, Bu-Ling nodded. "I'm remembering when Taru-Taru saved me in the cavern," she explained.

The alien had been a child like herself; too young to fight in a war, yet recruited all the same. He'd gotten scared. He'd gotten _hurt._ He'd died.

"You're referring to the Cyclonian named Taruto, aren't you?" Assistant Gupta asked. "I've read his file. You befriended him, didn't you?"

"I did. I loved him. I still do." Bu-Ling wasn't shy about this fact. Some might think her a traitor to the human race to side with one who'd nearly killed them all; they weren't there. They didn't know what it was like. What _he_ was like. "He was my friend. He died protecting us."

"But he was resurrected by the Mew Aqua," Assistant Gupta pressed, like that should be the end of it. "He lives again."

Bu-Ling bit back her argument. An argument she'd had with herself, with the other Mews, with her own family. Just because Ichigo, Taru-Taru, and the others had been brought back to life did not make watching them die any less traumatic. She still woke in cold sweats several times a week, convinced their resurrection had been a lovely, false dream.

"We should get on with the ultrasound," Bu-Ling decided. "What level do you want me?"

Naked, her ears grown fuzzy and round, a long, prehensile tail twining around one ankle, she adjusted her cap to protect her golden hair. Because her arms were skinny, Assistant Gupta injected the sedative into her hip. She cleaned the pinprick with an antiseptic wipe, then dropped the needle into the sharps bucket imbedded into the wall.

Bu-Ling propped her shoulder against the glass of the only available tube, waiting for the drug to take effect. With the lights dimmed, each chamber lit by a blacklight, her friends looked alien themselves. The scales of Retatsu's tail, in particular, glowed phosphorescent-bright.

Bu-Ling peeked at Gupta's multiple computer screens. It was easy to figure out that it was projecting Minto's ultrasound. Her hollow bones looked ghostly on the screen, the wings sprouting from her shoulderblades especially ethereal on her otherwise human skeleton. Her intestines glowed from all the barium she'd had to drink.

The girls only had to do this particular test twice a year, but they were always busy at JAXA. The scientists were desperate to learn how to create an army of superhumans, just as Ryou Shirogane had done. The military was more than happy to pay for it. 

Heck; Bu-Ling knew that the militaries of other countries-- Europe and America and even her own homeland, China-- were pouring money into this research. It was a war for planet earth. It was in everybody's best interest to learn all they could about “the enemy,” and those who’d successfully fought them.

The Mews should be happy, _proud,_ to help in this cause.

Bu-Ling wasn't sure about that, but she _was_ happy to have enough money to send her siblings to college; to ensure they had a good future. She certainly couldn't have afforded such a thing working the low-level jobs other girls her age had. If JAXA employees wanted to pay big money to take a few pictures of her spleen, where was the harm?

Except...

Except.

"He's not the enemy, Gupta," Bu-Ling said, slurring a little because the sedative was slowing her heart and her brain and everything else.

The lab assistant looked up from her computer, frowning. "Who isn't?"

"Taru-Taru. Kisshu. The Cyclonians. They aren't bad people. Their planet was a wasteland. They wanted some... somewhere safe to live. They were furious at us for how badly we treated our amazing planet... They thought we didn't deserve earth."

And were they wrong to think that? Sure, humanity had mostly changed their ways after coming so close to mass extinction. The world had "gone green" in many areas. But humanity as a whole was selfish, and Bu-Ling didn't know how long their good behavior would last. Sooner or later, greed would win out once more, and things would likely go back to how they used to be.

Assistant Gupta frowned at Bu-Ling. "You're intoxicated," she said, glancing meaningfully at the security camera, as though trying to warn Bu-Ling not to say foolish things where someone else might hear. "Of course you understand, better than anyone, how dangerous and bloodthirsty all Cyclonians can be, regardless of their individuality and merits. We still need to know how to fight them."

"Mm." It was getting harder for Bu-Ling to keep her eyes open. She pulled her goggles down over her eyes, adjusted her oxygen mask, and began to climb the ladder up to her ultrasound tank. It was easier if Gupta didn't have to carry her. No matter how tired she was, Bu-Ling was still a monkey. Climbing was the most natural thing in the world to her.

On reaching the top, she waited for Gupta to switch on her flow of oxygen, double-checked that her mask was blowing a steady stream of oxygen into her mouth and nose, and fell into the goo.

It was, as always, surprisingly warm inside. A womb-like space that seemed to pulse with her heart-- not helped by the fact that her goggles tinted everything red. It was absolutely silent in here, even to her sensitive monkey ears.

She hung weightless in the concoction, rapidly losing consciousness as much from the sensory deprivation as the sedative. If she could just close her eyes for a _minute..._

"Hey, brat," a warm, childlike voice sang in Bu-Ling's head. "Got yourself stuck again, huh?"

Bu-Ling often heard Taru-Taru's voice in her thoughts during the moments right before sleep. _I'm not stuck. I'm resting._

"Don't worry. I'll always get you out if you need me to."

Though her face was hidden by her mask, Bu-Ling couldn't help but give a little smile. _I know you will, Taru-Taru. That's what best friends do._


	2. Zakuro Fujiwara

Zakuro worked hard to keep in shape. She suspected she had the wolf inside her to thank for that. A high protein diet and a lot of sprinting pleased the beast within her.

She'd retired from her modeling career at age twenty-three. It was a toxic environment that encouraged her, encouraged _everyone,_ to starve. She’d existed to convince others they weren't good enough, and could only be improved by spending all their money on products in the faint hope of looking like her, when the truth was that even _she_ didn’t look like “her.” Her photoshoots were so airbrushed she scarcely recognized herself. 

It hadn’t brought her any happiness. She didn't miss it one bit. Hell, the only reason she’d taken the job to begin with was a driving need for success, money, and the independence those three things bought. 

Her family hadn’t wanted her after they’d learned she was a lesbian. She’d cut them out without a second’s thought, and hadn’t once looked back. If they had an opinion about her being a Mew Mew, she’d never heard a word of it. She hadn’t heard a word from _any_ of them since she’d turned sixteen.

She invested the money she earned as a study-aid for JAXA wisely. The Mews were her only family, so unlike Bu-Ling, she had nobody to support with it. She donated to charities, sure, but for the most part what she earned was stored away for future use.

When the ultrasound chambers were opened and the five Mews were dumped onto the floor in a flood of goo, she stood on four paws and shook her fur out, coating the room in spray.

Minto turned towards her, squinting through her goggles, and pulled the oxygen mask off her own face as well as Zakuro's. Zakuro closed her eyes and felt the other girl's lips touch her snout-- the final catalyst she needed to regain her human form.

She made eye-contact with Minto for a lingering moment, and then both women turned their attention onto Bu-Ling while Retatsu and Ichigo sorted themselves out.

"Towel, please," Zakuro said. Assistant Gupta snapped out of her reverie. She'd been staring at them for several minutes already.

"Yes, of course."

Three clean towels were passed her way. Zakuro scooped the smallest Mew into her lap while Minto removed Bu-Ling's mask, goggles, and shower cap.

"Rise and shine," Minto poked Bu-Ling's cheek. She always had to be sedated during their full-body ultrasounds, or the claustrophobia would give her an anxiety attack.

Bu-Ling groaned and stirred in Zakuro's arms. Good enough.

Pulling a towel around herself and another around Bu-Ling, Zakuro stood, lifting the monkey in her arms. Minto followed suit, her wings dripping. Even a few good flaps shed only a fraction of the goo. They needed to shower, but Bu-Ling was in no state to do so yet.

When Retatsu opened the cubby to collect her glasses, she also set everybody's slippers on the ground. Zakuro stepped into hers.

"Go shower," she advised Minto. To Assistant Gupta she said, "I'm going to take Bu-Ling to her room."

She wasn't asking for permission; simply stating a fact. She stared into the assistant's eyes to make that crystal clear.

When nobody offered a word of protest, Zakuro opened the door to the lab and let herself out, though technically she wasn't supposed to wander this side of the facility without a guide. Preferably a guide with a badge and, despite Japan's strict laws, a gun.

Armed or not, _nobody_ told Zakuro Fujiwara what to do.

Well. Nobody but Minto, anyway.

She carried Bu-Ling from the labs and to the elevator, rising floor after floor until she reached the office area. Bu-Ling was waking gradually, but she'd be groggy for a few hours.

"Zakuro?" she slurred, her tail wrapping around the other woman's leg.

"Yes. You're safe."

"Mm." Bu-Ling snuggled into Zakuro's neck. "I talked to Taru-Taru."

This wasn't as unusual as it sounded. Zakuro knew the youngest Mew often dreamed of her alien friend. "Was it a nice conversation?"

"Yes. He asked for more of that candy I used to give him. I took him to the store to buy some, and we played around the whole time. He liked the action figures in the toy aisle."

Zakuro had been there when Taruto was killed. The child-alien had dropped like a stone from the sky, and there hadn't been a thing she or anyone else could do to save him. Bu-Ling's screams had been agonizing.

She caught several curious glances as she strode through the busy office portion of JAXA. Of course she did; she was a purple-haired celebrity wearing nothing but a towel and some slippers, carrying another Mew who still had her tail out.

She stared challengingly at the rubberneckers until they abruptly felt compelled to return to their business.

The Mews' quarters were just beyond the office. They had a dining area, where meals could be brought from the facility's cafeteria. In addition to a dining room, sauna, and gym, they each had their own bedroom. Zakuro only slept in her JAXA room when testing ran late, or she was otherwise too fatigued to drive. Most of the time, she lived in her and Minto's apartment.

Bu-Ling lived full-time at the facility, as did Ichigo after her and Masaya's dramatic breakup the previous autumn. (His refusal to work for JAXA, and his unsubtle, holier-than-thou disapproval of Ichigo's choice of “career,” drove an irreparable wedge between them.) Retatsu still lived with her parents.

Zakuro walked the familiar, homey hallways of their quarters. If pictures of this place were made available online, people would assume it was just another house. A second glance might reveal the lack of windows, or the industrial-grade fire extinguishers, emergency buttons, and security cameras, but the lighting, wallpaper, carpet, and furniture was all perfectly ordinary.

It was possible to digitally lock any of the doors in here, such as Bu-Ling's bedroom door when Zakuro slid it open, but there wasn't much point to it. Anyone high enough on the JAXA totem pole had access to all their "secret" codes.

Bu-Ling's room, like all of their rooms, was actually _four_ rooms separated by low dividing walls. There was the front room, where she could have guests. And _because_ it was Bu-Ling's home, she'd packed it floor to ceiling with clutter, mismatched furniture, and the piles of colorful garbage ("art”) that she found on street corners, inside charity shops, or at garage sales. Minto insisted just sitting in the room made her need a shower. 

Looking at the random pile of mouse bones on one shelf beside a clay smoking pipe and one dirty baby shoe, Zakuro could sort of see her point.

Zakuro carried Bu-Ling through her tiny kitchenette, complete with one singular stove burner, a microwave, a two storage cabinets, and a mini refrigerator the youngest Mew kept stocked with all the sugary, fruity drinks she craved.

The bedroom itself was almost plain compared to the rest of the "apartment," the only decoration being a framed poster from the circus Bu-Ling once worked for. It had been signed by all the rest of the circus folk; mailed to her after her secret identity as a Mew Mew was exposed to the world.

Rather than a bed, Bu-Ling had a rope hammock stretched wall to wall, considerably higher off the ground than hammocks were typically strung. So high, in fact, that Zakuro didn't think she could lift the monkey into it, even if she stood on her tiptoes.

The hammock contained one pillow, one blanket, and one well-loved plush clown. Beneath the hammock there were two beanbag chairs in a corner facing a small television, surrounded by stacks of DVDs and CDs. Zakuro recognized one of the DVDs as Minto’s rehearsal tapes; her attempt to get into Juilliard that ultimately failed. Other than that, a two-drawer dresser for clothes, and the door to Bu-Ling's bathroom, the space was bare.

"You can put me down now," Bu-Ling said, as Zakuro stared silently up at her hammock. "I'm feeling a little better."

Zakuro did so, lowering the arm under the monkey's legs until Bu-Ling could stand on her bare feet. She stripped her towel off and reached into a drawer for an oversized t-shirt that she pulled on for pajamas, then climbed some indents in her wall until she reached the hammock.

"Can you put one of the CDs in?" Bu-Ling asked with a sleepy yawn. "Something relaxing."

Zakuro obligingly searched through the stack of music CDs until she found one called 'Soothing Violin Music' in big English letters. She inserted it into Bu-Ling's DVD player and hit 'play.' Classic string music filled the little room.

"Mm," Bu-Ling sighed in approval, already most of the way to sleep. She bunched her clown under her chin, curled into a ball, and just about disappeared under her blanket.

"Tell Taruto I said hello," Zakuro said, reaching up to pat what she thought was Bu-Ling's leg. She received no response but a soft snore.

Zakuro showed herself out, switching lights off as she went. It might be pointless, but it still made the protective wolf in her feel better to lock Bu-Ling's door before re-entering the hallway. She'd sleep safe and sound until she was ready to rejoin the waking world.

Zakuro then walked to her _own_ room. Because she didn't spend a lot of time in here, it contained only the essentials: some snacks with a long shelf life; a few changes of clothes; bathroom necessities; and a plain twin bed to sleep on.

She had a quick shower, rinsing all the ultrasound goo down the drain, then dried off. Although she didn't keep many clothes here, fashion was still important to Zakuro. She spent a few long minutes on her hair and makeup before dressing, changing pieces of her outfit around before deciding she was satisfied.

A glance at her cell phone showed one text from Minto -- 'in the dining room w the pest.'

Zakuro smiled as she walked towards said dining room, replying, 'be nice!!!'

Sure enough, a freshly showered Ichigo sat with Minto, the two of them munching their way through tea and hot tororo soba. Minto preferred her meals to be a little fancier than this, but when a girl was hungry, she was hungry.

Silently, Zakuro joined the others and helped herself, scooping soba from the big cafeteria bowl and cracking a quail egg on top as the yam noodles and nagaimo steamed. She seasoned it well, her empty tummy grumbling.

"Where's Retatsu?" she asked, when there was a break in Ichigo and Minto's constant bickering.

"She left already. Something about needing to get ready for a convention this weekend."

Zakuro smiled as she ate. Retatsu had transformed her hobby of sewing, knitting, and crocheting cute toys into a part-time job. She made good money from her creations, and all of it was donated to oceanic conservation charities.

"How's the kid?" Minto asked.

"Bu-Ling will be fine. She's just tired."

Minto pulled Zakuro's bowl towards herself and rained a pile of green vegetables into the salty broth while giving Zakuro a glare, daring her to argue. Zakuro sighed, but it was only for show. Minto was always on her case about eating healthier; more vegetables, less meat. Zakuro loved that Minto cared.

Ichigo watched this interaction with a raised eyebrow. Noticing this, Minto dropped her chopsticks, turning away from Zakuro and rapidly changing the subject. Their relationship had been a secret from everyone, even the other Mews, since the beginning. Zakuro didn't think Ichigo, Bu-Ling, or Retatsu would reject them for falling in love -- Zakuro was pretty sure they’d all guessed the truth anyway -- but Minto insisted it be kept private until she was ready to come out.

Zakuro popped some peas into her mouth and didn't say another word for the rest of lunch.

"What are you doing this weekend?" Minto asked as they stacked their empty dishes for a janitor to return to the cafeteria.

"It's my mom's birthday," Ichigo said idly. "We're having dinner at her favorite restaurant."

"Do you need a ride?"

"No; Masaya's taking me."

Zakuro and Minto both shot Ichigo a Look. She held her palms up defensively. "I haven't told my parents we broke up! They still love him. It'd look weird if he didn't come."

"When are you going to tell them?!" Minto demanded. "It's been forever!"

Pot, meet kettle.

"I _will!"_ Ichigo huffed, glaring down at the table. "When it feels right."

"Are you sure you're not just waiting for the two of you to get back together?"

Ichigo said nothing. Minto opened her mouth, clearly intending to tell her off with that sharp, merciless tongue of hers. Zakuro had no doubt the conversation would end in yelling and crying, followed by days worth of the silent treatment. She put a hand on her partner's narrow shoulder and shook her head no.

Minto's blue eyes burned cool fire The two opinionated women had a silent argument; all expressive eyebrows and tight mouths.

Finally, Minto gave in with a frustrated huff, throwing her hands into the air. "Whatever, Momomiya. It's just your stupid heart on the line." She stomped out of the dining room, already fishing her car keys out of her purse.

Zakuro waited until she was out of earshot before reaching across the table and touching Ichigo's hand. "She just worries about you," she explained gently. "She doesn't want you to get hurt again."

Ichigo nodded, but didn't look any happier about it. Zakuro leaned closer to kiss the other woman's forehead before standing and showing herself out, the high heels of her boots tapping softly on the carpet.


	3. Retatsu Midorikawa

Retasu Midorikawa did not care for lying to her friends. She wasn't good at it, she didn't like it, and it left her feeling guilty and sweaty for hours afterwards.

But she'd promised him she wouldn't tell, and promises held more weight than blind truth, sometimes. Especially in matters as risky as this.

She was not going to a convention. She was going somewhere else entirely.

She unplugged her electric car from JAXA's charging station and slid into the driver's seat, finding comfort in her small rituals. A swipe of banana lip-balm over her mouth. Swapping her glasses out for prescription sunglasses. A sip of water from her tumbler. Checking her phone for texts -- nothing but a silly meme from her younger brother, Uri.

She responded to his message with a few emoji flowers, then composed a new message for a contact named 'Riku.'

"I love that new perfume of yours," she told Riku.

A reply came in seconds, in the form of a single QR code. "Here's a coupon for it," said Riku.

Retatsu held her phone up to her car's GPS, and the device scanned the code on her phone. There was a long pause as her GPS configured the information, and then a list of driving instructions flitted across the screen.

Retatsu put her phone away, buckled her seatbelt, and followed the instructions she'd been given.

It wasn't too long of a drive; only about forty-five minutes. That was surprising; Chōfu was a densely-populated metropolitan area, and "Riku" had been trying to keep a low profile for years. One would think "she" would be further away.

As she drove, Retatsu began to suspect she was being directed paralell to the Nambu Line, towards Tama River.

Her GPS gently beeped when she passed a gas station. "Pit stop!" read the screen, in bright, cheerful kanji.

Familiar with this request, Retatsu pulled into the gas station, parked, and climbed out. Behaving as though there was something wrong with her car, she looked it over; every headlight, fender, door, window, and bumper.

Sweeping her hand along the undercarriage, she felt something that definitely should not have been there. Her heart sank. Not _again..._

"Hey, lady." A young, rough-looking man and some friends stopped to regard her. "Need some help with that?"

Retatsu forced a tight smile. "No, thank you; I've got it handled!"

"You sure?" To her dismay, they came closer, grinning wolfishly in a way that churned her stomach. "That's why those electric cars are stupid. Sure, they look nice, but they're always having problems."

Were they really going to do this here, in public? It was bright daylight outside, for crying out loud!

Retatsu's heart thundered, but she stood straight and tall. "I'm capable of fixing any problems by myself," she insisted firmly. "Thank you for the offer, but it's not necessary."

She was, too. When she knew she'd wanted to buy a car, she'd taken an automotive class to be fully prepared for any problems that might arise. The education had served her well over the years, and saved her a lot of money on repairs.

"Don't be embarrassed," the first man said, coming close enough that she could see the sweat stains on his tank top. His arms were thick with muscle, but the acne and chub of his face suggested youth. He couldn't have been any older than eighteen. "Cute girls like you don't know shit about cars."

It wasn't exactly that Retatsu was afraid. She'd defeated far worse than a gang of rowdy, bored teenagers. Still, the discomfort of the situation rankled her. Retatsu was not a confrontational person. She didn't like making a fuss. More than anything, she wanted to be left alone.

"That's close enough," she said, holding her ground, and eye-contact.

The leader looked exaggeratedly at his friends, and they all chuckled at her statement. "You're being rude," the short one on the left said, something mean glinting in his eyes. "Do you know what happens to rude girls?"

Retatsu bit her lip. The temptation to rip off her headscarf, to shake her deep green hair from its braided bun, struck her. See how fast they retreated once they realized she was a Mew Mew; far from human, and far from helpless.

She dismissed the idea. Many girls now dyed their hair green, and other colors besides. It would be easier to believe she was just a Mew Mew fan, rather than a Mew Mew girl. Besides; she was wearing the scarf for a reason. She needed to keep as low a profile as possible on today's outing.

And they would learn nothing from the lesson. If one girl was deemed too tough to harass, they'd just find another. Maybe one not so lucky as Retatsu.

"I said that's enough," Retatsu said, making up her mind. "You need to leave, now."

The men stopped. The short one on the left sneered at her. "Or what, bitch?"

"Or I will fight you," Retatsu replied, standing at her full height, tensing the muscles in her calves. "And I will win. For both our sakes, you need to turn around and find something else to do."

The short man lunged towards her, teeth bared, truly offended at a bespectacled Japanese woman challenging his masculinity.

The man on the far right, the oldest and largest of the bunch, threw out an arm and caught his friend at the chest. He shook his head no.

The three men regarded each other, having a silent conversation between them. The short man wanted to fight her. The one in the middle was game for whatever the others decided. But the large man had seen something in Retatsu's eyes; something that told him a fight with her wouldn't end well for them.

After a tense pause, the short man turned his hate back on Retatsu. He spat at her feet, the phlegmy gobbet landing on the tarmac between her hiking shoes. "You got lucky, bitch."

She watched silently as they turned and left. She didn't take her eyes off them; didn't blink once until they'd crossed the road and turned the corner.

Zakuro or Minto would have beaten the boys bloody for disrespecting her so. Ichigo would have screamed her head off at them. Even Bu-Ling would have gotten some form of vengeance.

Was there something wrong with Retatsu, then, when all she felt was a tired disappointment? Those boys had likely been Tokyo children during the space war. Retatsu and her friends had saved them, and the lives of everyone they'd ever loved. And still they'd grown up with such hatred for women?

It was disheartening. Sometimes, she wondered if anything they'd ever done to help the world mattered at all. Maybe she should have taken up Pai's offer to return to his planet with him.

Dropping to her knee, she returned her hand to the undercarriage of her car, just below the driver's seat. Her fingers locked around the round, plastic device. With a sharp jerk of her elbow, she pulled it free. Lifted it to examine it.

The tracker didn't look like much. Just a knob with a single red light blinking in the center of it. It was just like the one JAXA had left on her car last month. If she kept "losing" them, they'd quickly figure out she was onto them. That she knew they were stalking her outside of work hours.

Still, what choice did she have? She couldn't very well lead them right to her biggest secret.

Reattaching the tracker to her car, she got back inside and drove up to-- and then _over_ \-- a curb. The metal undercarriage squealed horribly. The gas station attendant shook his fist at her, shouting something she couldn't hear. Probably something to do with lousy female drivers.

She backed her car up, satisfied to see that the little tracker had been scraped off her car. It now sat half-submerged in a storm drain. Let them track that, if they liked. When they investigated her car, they'd see the dings and scrapes, and assume she'd had a minor accident. Surely, nobody would do such a thing on _purpose!_

Reversing further, she returned to the road, and followed the straight pink line on her GPS all the way to Tama River.  
  


* * *

She found "Riku" sitting at a picnic table, chomping noisily on fried chicken from a bucket.

Retatsu, who hadn't eaten all day, felt her stomach growl.

Without turning around, Riku said, "Help yourself; there's plenty."

Retatsu walked around the table to face her friend, sliding into the available seat. "You look nice today," she said, taking a paper plate and a drumstick.

It was true. Riku's long black hair was combed silky-smooth down her back. She wore a salmon-pink blouse that complimented her tan skin, and a large necklace that drew the eye away from her flat chest. Her pencil skirt added nonexistent definition to her narrow hips. Her flat shoes made her impressive height slightly less noticeable.

Her makeup was subtle and tasteful. If Retatsu hadn't already known the age lines around her eyes and mouth were fake, she never would have guessed.

Under a pair of sunglasses hid a pair of beautiful, sapphire-blue eyes. Retatsu _missed_ those eyes.

For several minutes, the two women ate their picnic in content silence. Retatsu murmured polite thanks when Riku spooned vegetables onto her plate; filled a paper cup with lemonade from a can.

"You're running a little late," Riku observed, her voice low and warm and pleasant. "Car trouble?"

"I'm afraid so," Retatsu sighed. "I swear, every time I leave work my car is acting up."

Riku's eyes flashed, filing the information away. "That's such a shame. Do you think it's your office? It used to be such a nice place to work..."

"Things have certainly gone downhill," Retatsu agreed, thinking of how strange the employees at JAXA had been acting lately. "My coworkers have noticed, too."

Zakuro had, anyway, which meant that Minto probably knew, too.

"Is there any chance of you transferring to another company?"

"There's no way my boss would ever let me go."

Riku lowered her sunglasses long enough to give Retatsu a considering Look. In those eyes, Retatsu saw the boy she'd loved for so much of her life.

"Lets go for a walk," Riku suggested.

They cleared up their trash, wiped their greasy hands clean on a towel, and set out along one of the walking paths that curved all the way around the river. By the time the sun set, they'd have a perfect view of it glittering off the water.

Riku offered a hand, and Retatsu took it, lacing their fingers. Hopefully, to the dogwalkers and cyclists that passed them by, they looked like a pair of old friends enjoying some fresh air together.

In a way, that was exactly what they were.

"Oh," Riku said, stopping. "Your scarf is tangled. Let me fix it for you--"

Catching onto the fabric, Riku leaned in to whisper in Retatsu's ear: "There's trouble. JAXA is sending explorers to Cyclon."

Retatsu felt her heart skip a beat. JAXA knew where Cyclon was?! When had they learned the location? Why were they sending explorers?

... Why did she have such an uneasy feeling in her chest?

"Human?" she asked, voice barely a breath on the wind.

"No. Machine. Lettuce, the machines are explosive. They gather data, and then they blow up. They're killing aliens. People. Civillians."

Retatsu felt like her knees had been turned to water. Somehow, hearing the English pronunciation of her name made it all the more real. She thought of little Taruto; besotted Kisshu; mysterious Pai. She thought of their families. Of the legions of Cyclonians who had only just begun rebuilding their planet after decades of war.

And now earth was gift-wrapping bombs for them.

Targeting civilians was a war crime, yet somehow, Retatsu had no trouble imagining the leaders of her planet doing it all the same. Cyclonians were, after all, inhuman. A threat. The most innocent of babies was equal to the most hardened of criminals, to the people she worked for.

Retatsu didn't doubt Riku's words for a second. Riku wouldn't have called this meeting if it wasn't deathly serious.

"Are we at war?" she asked, dazed by the magnitude of this information.

"Not yet," Riku replied. "Not just yet."

But they would be. Probably sooner, rather than later.

Did anyone on Earth even know JAXA had managed to reach Cyclon? Retatsu certainly didn't. If humanity didn't know Earth had started this fight, then they wouldn't be prepared for retaliation. People could die.

... Maybe that was what JAXA wanted...

Retatsu gave her head a shake. She shouldn't dive so deep down the conspiracy rabbit hole. She needed to face only the facts she had, and tackle the rest when they came along.

"Are you in contact with anyone on Cyclon?" she asked. Not an hour before, she would have said such a thing was impossible. But if anyone would have done such a thing, it would be this person. "Is that how you know what's happening?"

"Yes," her companion replied shortly, offering no further explanation. She took a step back. Took Retatsu's hand again. Resumed their walk.

They strayed from the path, closer to the water than was advisable. There were signs warning people away; listing the local drowning statistics in the fast-moving water, but Retatsu lived as a part-time mermaid. And if they did happen to fall in, it wouldn't be the first time she'd saved this person's life.

She remembered it as though it were yesterday;  the warm body in her arms, the confidence in her heart; pressing her lips to his, breathing for him so deep under the sea...

"Hey," Riku bumped her with a hip. "You still listening?"

"Hm? Oh." Retatsu laughed guiltily. Earth was picking a war with an underprivileged planet, and she was thinking about an unrequited teenage crush? How selfish could she be?! "Yes. I'm here."

This close to the noisy water, they could talk freely without risk of being overheard.

"Do you have a plan?" Retatsu asked. "We can't let JAXA keep bombing their planet. That's unacceptable."

"I'm working on it." "Riku" dropped the gentle feminine lilt to "her" voice, once more speaking in the low tones Retatsu was familiar with. "Keiichiro, too. Remember, we're just two people against the whole space-exploring world."

"Seven," Retatsu argued. "Mew Mews don't stand for injustice. We're with you."

Riku lowered her glasses again, looking at Retatsu with those dazzling blue eyes. "Can you really speak for the others? After all I've done to you? I was wrong to force you into the war in the first place. You were... You were just kids, and I..."

"You were a kid, too, Shirogane," Retatsu argued, gripping his wrist in hers. "You're no older than me. You wanted to save the world, and that was the only way you knew how to do it."

The wind pushed strands of his wig in her face. Retatsu batted them away, longing for the soft blond hair she knew was hidden just beneath. Longing for a world where he didn't have to hide. A world where his very life wasn't a threat; where he wasn't a wanted man.

If JAXA caught him, they would force him to create an army of Mew soldiers. He would have no choice. His beautiful plan would be twisted into something dark; violent.

Retatsu pressed forward, looking earnestly into his eyes. "We can't change what happened to us. I _can't_ speak for the others; you're right about that. But I know I wouldn't have done anything different. I'm glad I am what I am. And I'm glad I know you. Please, Shirogane-- Ryou-- please, let me tell the others. They'll be so happy to know you're alive... They'll _want_ to help."

He looked at her for a long moment, the orange of the setting sun bringing out the freckles on his tan skin.

"Alright," he agreed, finally. "Alright. Let's... Let's plan, then. You're right; something must be done. And we're the only ones crazy enough to do it."

* * *

They walked until they reached the bathroom closest to the parking lot, making sure it was empty before walking in together.

Retatsu turned away as Ryou removed his clothes; the skirt, the blouse, the underwear, the shoes and sunglasses and wig and necklace. She folded it all carefully and tucked it in her bag, to be disposed of before she got home.

She kept her eyes closed until something warm and soft brushed against her leg, and then she bent to stroke the little gray cat's pointed ears. He purred, headbutting her hand.

They walked out of the bathroom together before he scampered a little ways off. A cute stray cat walking obediently at a woman's side would draw too much attention.

But Retatsu knew Ryou. She knew he'd make sure she got safely to her car before he slunk off into the night; to wherever he and Keiichiro were hiding.

The thought warmed her heart. Ryou really had been doing his best to protect them from the shadows, ever since the Mew Mews were first formed. He truly did love them, even if the others sometimes doubted that. Even if they felt like he'd used them for his own gain.

When she started her car up, she also turned her phone back on. She'd left it, off, in her car, because she knew all too well how phones could be tapped. Recorded. Tracked.

She was startled at the huge number of missed texts waiting for her. They were all from one group chat, between the other four Mew Mews.  Retatsu scrolled all the way to the top of the chat, reading the first message.

Ichigo: We need to meet.

Ichigo: Something's happening to Masaya.

Ichigo: It's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey; it's been a while... I had to move house, and then I published a book! (If you're curious, [here it is!](https://www.amazon.com/Deep-Water-All-Seas-Book-ebook/dp/B083YWMZWL/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=deep+water+l.+rambit&qid=1580081976&sr=8-1))
> 
> I was pleasantly surprised at the positive comments this fic has gotten so far; I honestly thought the fandom was dead, or that this type of story clashed too much with TMM's style, and would turn fans off. Anyway... Hello; thank you for saying nice things!
> 
> Next chapter, we'll get to see what's going on with Masaya.


	4. Ichigo Momomiya

Mr. and Mrs. Momomiya had taken well to the celebrity status and advanced tax bracket their daughter's identity brought them; more so than any of the Mew Mew-parents. New money in name only, they exuded an air of class, as though they'd had such a high net worth all their lives.

"You shouldn't have," Ichigo said, looking at the pearl-drop earrings Masaya had purchased for her mother. Delicate rose-gold stems leading to almost obscenely large pearls that would sway just above Sakura's collarbones, drawing attention to, contrasting against, her slender throat.

At fifty-seven years old, the redhead was just as beautiful as she'd been at thirty. A lot of money went into keeping her that way.

Masaya shrugged, dark eyes on the road. "You said to find a nice gift for her."

Ichigo squirmed guiltily. She'd meant to choose her mother's birthday gift by herself, but she'd been so busy, and it was just easier to ask Masaya to do some things for her. They may no longer be dating, but he still had a better grasp on Ichigo's parents than Ichigo ever had.

"She'll love them," Ichigo admitted begrudgingly, and closed the black velvet box. Tucked it back inside the paper bag marked "To: Sakura. From: Ichigo and Masaya."  
  
"Do you still want to tell them tonight?" Masaya asked, glancing at his ex from the corner of his eye. They'd agreed to wait until after dinner to gently break the news that the engagement was off; that after dating for over a decade, "Masaya and Ichigo" were no longer "Masaya and Ichigo."

Ichigo felt more anxiety in telling her parents than she had in breaking up with the man himself-- they'd been planning the wedding since she and Masaya were still in high school. They were an iconic celebrity couple, after all; Japan's attractive superhero-sweethearts.

"I think we'd better. I hate lying to them." Ichigo twisted her silk-gloved fingers in her lap, playing with her tiny clutch-purse. She felt a little like throwing up. Pale beneath her makeup.

"So you're sure you really want to--" Masaya trailed off, swallowing.

Now it was Ichigo's turn to stare at him. "What are you saying?!" she asked, eyes narrowing. _"You're_ the one who--"

She stopped when she felt her teeth shift and sharpen in her mouth. Her anatomy had been distressingly fluid since she'd died and been resurrected on Deep Blue's base nearly a decade prior. If she wasn't careful, Masaya would have to carry her into a fine dining establishment with claws and a tail. The paparazzi would _love_ that.  
  
For a moment, she felt panic sink in her gut. What was she _thinking,_ breaking up with Masaya?! Who else in the entire world could understand who; _what_ she was? Would date her for her personality, not her status? What other guy would want a girlfriend who spent half her time hacking up hairballs?  
  
Some women could live happy lives without a significant other. Ichigo didn't think she was that kind of person. If she didn't have someone with her all the time to validate and ground her, she barely knew who she was. Was she making the biggest mistake of her life?  
  
And it wasn't as though she didn't love Masaya. She'd very literally  _died_ for him, for crying out loud. Feelings that strong didn't just go away. But...

"I just think you're making a mistake, is all," Masaya sighed, so close to echoing her own thoughts that Ichigo startled. "With all this JAXA stuff? You know how messed up they are..."

Oh, this again. He'd all but called her a stupid woman for letting the government "fondle" her with the intention of learning all they could about what made her tick. He insisted they were trying to make weapons. That she was no more than a pink bomb to them; something to be downloaded and copied ad nauseum.

 _"Why not get a job using your brains?"_ he'd asked.

_"I do 'use my brains.' And my brains tell me this is something I can offer the world that nobody else can."_

_"What; providing them the blueprints for super-soldiers?! You're no better than a whore; selling your body! No-- you're worse! At least a whore hurts nobody but herself. You're killing the world!"_

That'd been one of the ugliest arguments they'd ever had. She still felt the slap of that ugly word from someone who was supposed to love her.  It was easy to remember why she'd broken up with him when she focused on that. After remembering _that,_ it was easy for Ichigo to give him the cold-shoulder all the way to the restaurant parking lot, where a valet traded places with Masaya and parked the car for them.

Ichigo smoothed the magenta satin of her dress and opened her mouth wide. "Good?"

He peered at her teeth. "No fangs."

Satisfied, she linked her arm through his and worked on not looking miserable.

Yutakana wasn't a particularly flashy establishment, but then, it didn't need to be. Plain decoration and dim lights; no live music or entertainment, but they'd won enough Michelin stars in their sixty-plus years of business that it was still considered a status symbol just to get reservations at all.

Personally, the meat was a bit too weak for Ichigo's carnivorous tastes. A bloody, rare steak from the supermarket was more to her liking.

"Your parents are at their usual table, Ms. Momomiya; Mr. Aoyama," the maître d informed them, giving a formal little bow. "Do you require accompaniment?"

"We'll manage; thank you." Masaya was better at faking emotion than Ichigo had ever been; there was true warmth in his smile as he led Ichigo past secluded tables to where they were awaited.

"Aoyama-kun!" Sakura hopped to her feet, beaming, and encompassed her "future son-in-law" in a happy embrace. "It's wonderful to see you."

"Hello to you, too, mom," Ichigo said, with just the right amount of sarcasm. The four adults laughed like it was the funniest joke in the world; the picture of a perfect, beautiful family for anybody watching-- and people certainly _were_ watching. They always were.

"Hey, sweetheart," said Ichigo's father, making to stand from his wheelchair. The year prior, he'd suffered not one but two bouts of cardiac arrest. Sometimes he walked, but most days, he did not have the energy to.

Ichigo went to him, instead, bending to kiss and hug him. "You look nice, papa."

He did, too. His suit had been tailored to look as nice sitting as it did standing, and was duck-egg blue to match his wife's dress.

Sakura stood on tiptoe to press kisses to each of Ichigo's cheeks, and then everyone sat. "I hope you don't mind, we've already helped ourselves to some wine," Sakura was telling Masaya, giggling as a waiter appeared to fill his and Ichigo's glasses from the same bottle.

Covertly, Ichigo swirled her glass, "accidentally" spilling a drop onto her acrylic fingernail as she did. Masaya waited to see if her nail polish would change color; if they'd been drugged.

The polish remained pink. The "happy couple" both relaxed and drank. There'd been only one bad incident a few years prior, when the former German ambassador had paid top dollar to kidnap a Mew Mew. He hadn't gotten very far.

The waiter returned to take their order. "Can I interest you in our lamb with plumb sauce?" he asked.

Ichigo smiled politely. "No, thank you. Just a T-bone steak for me; rare."

"Plumbs are deadly to cats," Masaya pointed out, and the waiter went pale and stammered out an apology.

"It's alright!" Ichigo insisted, shooting Masaya an irritated Look. Did he really have to remind people how different, how freakish, she was all the time?!

The evening passed in bland pleasantness, though Masaya stiffened at her side when her father asked about her work with JAXA.

"It's alright," Ichigo said vaguely, bringing a bite of steak to her mouth.

"You worked today, didn't you? What did you do?"

"Just more tests." Masaya would probably scoff at the idea that being given a full-body ultrasound, staying perfectly still in a tube of goo, counted as "work." Especially compared to his own nonprofit environmentalist work where he so often "used his brain."

Perhaps her parents caught a hint of her discomfort, but they blessedly changed the subject after that.

Sakura loved her earrings, as expected, and put them in right away. Of course they suited her well-- of _course._ Masaya was just perfect like that, wasn't he?

After desert of a rich chocolate ganache, Sakura dropped the information that they were going to America for the next two weeks.

"Oh, are you going on another cruise?" Masaya asked.

"Not exactly." Shintaro set his spoon down to explain that there was an experimental heart treatment developed there, and he'd been selected as a study candidate. "If it works, it could really help me. It could extend my life by several years."

 _Extend his life..._ "But you're not dying, papa. You're alright."

Shintaro and Sakura exchanged a look. Ichigo's heart sank. Were they keeping something from her? If he was dying, couldn't JAXA fix him, as a favor to her? Why did he have to go all the way to America?!

Sensing Ichigo's rising anxiety, Masaya took her hand under the table, not even wincing when her growing claws pricked his wrist. He rubbed his thumb in circles over her knuckles, wordlessly reminding her to breathe. She couldn't afford to fall apart in public.  
  
Maybe that was why Ichigo once more put off breaking the bad news to her parents, however. When Masaya started to say they had something important to talk about, Ichigo gave his leg a kick. Gave a light shake of her head. Masaya kept his mouth shut. 

The bill was paid on their tab. The maître d accompanied them outside, where they waited for the valet to bring their cars around. To help Shintaro roll his chair inside and lock the wheels in place.

Because her parents still drove a gas-model car, rather than the increasingly popular electrical cars, Masaya kept far away from it, glaring his disapproval. Ichigo rolled her eyes and waved until her parents' car left the parking lot behind.

"The valet must be busy tonight," Ichigo said to the maître d, after several long minutes passed, and there was no sign of their car.

When she received no answer, she looked around and saw that she and Masaya were completely alone out front; no guests, no valets, nobody. Just as she noticed this, all of the lights in the parking lot went out at once.

She jumped, her cat's eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. Masaya had no such advantage. "Ichigo? What's happening?"

He stumbled around, eyes huge, as though to take in light that simply wasn't there. Ichigo stepped to take his hand before he fell face-first off the curb.

"Must be a power outage," she said. "Look, the restaurant is dark, too. A blackout?"

She pulled him with her to the restaurant door, hoping to wait inside, but found that it was locked. "What the--"

Masaya pulled his cell phone from his pocket, turning it on to use it as a flashlight. "Where is everybody?"

A prickle of unease made the hair on the back of Ichigo's neck stand on end. "Something's not right," she said quietly. "Masaya, get behind me." She felt black hair growing along her skin, and did nothing to stop it. Fur and whiskers would give her a better sense of her surroundings. "Can you call someone? Zakuro?"

Pressing his back against hers, Masaya tried. "It says there's no signal," he muttered. "How is that possible? My GPS worked just fine on the way here..."

Ichigo's ears grew, the skin thinning as it pointed and elongated. Their curved shape allowed her to take in more sound. They swiveled on her head, listening in all directions. There was something... The squeal of some equipment--

Suddenly, a high, piercing sound sounded from all directions, so shrill it threatened to burst Ichigo's eardrums into bloody paste.

She screamed, falling to her knees, clapping both arms over her head. It felt like her head would split apart. Her eyes ran thick tears at the endless ringing reverberating in her brain. "Make it stop, make it _stop--!"_

"Ichigo?!" From far away, she heard Masaya calling to her in confusion. "What's wrong?"

What did he _mean,_ 'what's wrong'?! Demons were ripping the world apart, and her brain right along with it!

He sank to his knees in front of her, taking her face in hand, eyes enormous as he tried to see what was happening to her. As he saw nothing but blackness, no matter how wide his pupils expanded. He touched her instead, feeling her hands, her agonized ears.

Through her streaming eyes, Ichigo saw the approach of something-- something _big--_

She tackled Masaya, rolling with him just as the 'something' sped their way, slamming into the curb and cracking the concrete right where they'd just been kneeling.  
  
There was no doubt about it. They were under attack.

They held each other on the asphalt of the parking lot, dirty and scraped. "They must be playing a high-frequency noise on some sort of speaker," Masaya rationalized. "Something I can't hear, with my human ears-- Ichigo, can you lose the cat ears?"

Whatever it was, it was horribly debilitating. Ichigo couldn't focus; couldn't _think._ Could only react. She barely understood the words he was saying to her.

In his blindness, Masaya had trouble finding her face. He stroked her neck with a bleeding hand, then worked it up until he found her chin, her lips, with a thumb. Replacing his thumb with his lips, he kissed her.

Her cat ears shrank to normal size, rounding and losing their fur. It wasn't a perfect solution, but the pain in her skull receded to a dull headache. She could hear again and, more importantly, she could think. She wiped the pained tears from her eyes. "Thanks."

"Yeah. What's happening?"

"I think a truck is trying to hit you-- move!" Ichigo gave Masaya another push, rolling him underneath a parked Sedan. "Stay there so you don't get hurt."

"What about you?!"

Ichigo didn't answer.

Whatever was happening to them, someone was watching. Had been able to see when she sprouted cat ears; when to start playing that unbearable sound.  
  
As she thought this, the sound stopped completely, as though somebody, somewhere, hit an 'off' switch. They must know that dirty trick of theirs was no longer working.  
  
If that was true, that meant they now knew where Masaya was hiding. Where she was standing. What they were doing. This was more than just a one-person job.

Was the whole restaurant in on it? Impossible. There had been other guests inside; even parents with small children. No way they were all actors. Did that mean they were now hostages?

Unacceptable. If she couldn't call the other Mews in for backup, she'd have to handle this herself. And fast!

The truck that'd smashed the curb-- a heavy eighteen-wheeler; one that couldn't change directions easily-- had finally managed to turn around. It sped their way a second time, aiming not for Ichigo, but for the Sedan under which Masaya hid.

Masaya! He'd be crushed; killed!

Ichigo ran for the truck, which was somehow driving without a single light to guide its path. She leapt into the air as soon as she was close enough to feel its exhaust bathe her face. She landed on the hood, thirteen feet off the ground. Resting her weight on her hands, she kicked the windshield as hard as she could with both legs.

The first kick cracked the glass and broke the heels of her shoes. The second kick absolutely _shattered_ glass strong enough to withstand bullets. There were some advantages to being a superhero.

Pushing into the lap of the cringing driver, who'd thrown his hands over his head to protect himself, Ichigo grabbed the steering wheel and cranked it to the left. The truck teetered violently, threatening to overturn, then balanced out again.

Ichigo had achieved her goal of diverting the path away from Masaya, but realized she'd overshot when they crashed into-- then through-- the North wall of the restaurant. She feared they'd continue all the way through, destroying the building and everyone inside it, but at last the truck was stopped.

"You little bitch!" The driver screamed in thickly accented English. She realized he was wearing night-vision goggles; apparently that was how he'd been driving without headlights.

He grabbed her, locking a thick arm around her throat. He was bleeding heavily from a gash on his shoulder. She felt the cold kiss of a knife to her temple.

Too bad for him; Ichigo didn't always remain person-shaped. He'd been holding a woman very tightly, and his arms didn't know what to do when that woman was suddenly replaced by a small black cat.

Ichigo wriggled out of his hold-- and her dress-- and sprinted on four paws down the hood of the truck, and onto a stove. Apparently they'd plowed right into the kitchen itself, with hunks of plaster and wood and hot metal twisted and warped from the force of the impact.

Before the driver could get out and chase after her, she ran from the empty kitchen and to the dining hall, where her worst fears were realized: masked men lined every wall, machine guns aimed at the cowering patrons; many of whom had hidden underneath their tables in fear. They held each other, shaking, tears in their eyes. How could she possibly take on so many enemies by herself, when so many lives were at stake?!

It was only a matter of time before the truck driver raised the alarm that she'd shifted forms. They might turn that horrible noise back on to immobilize her.

So, Ichigo did what Ichigo did best: she ran headfirst into an insane situation with no hope and no plan. Speeding like a bullet underneath one of the tables, she snatched the hanging tablecloth in her teeth and pulled, dragging it-- and all the dishes-- off the table with a crash. Silverware clattered to the floor. The wine bottle broke and splattered deep purple liquid everywhere, soaking her fur.

Still holding the tablecloth, she ran with it covering her body like a small ghost. And as expected, the jumpy thugs took aim and fired-- all in her direction, all at once. The naked table was riddled in bullets in a heartbeat.

Thank God for smart people. One of the hostages, at least, must've seen the opportunity for what it was. Ichigo saw the woman closest to the door grab another woman's hand and drag her outside, sprinting for freedom. A few more brave hostages got the same idea and made a break for it while the coast was clear, carrying their children and friends with them.

Hopefully, at least one of them would think to call for help as soon as they got somewhere their cell phones functioned properly.

Ichigo tripped over something and went flying, her body trapped in the thick white tablecloth. She panicked and thrashed, trying to free herself, but it was no use; the cloth was too big, and she was the size of an average housecat.

A second later, a man's hand thrust inside and seized her by the scruff, hauling her out. She twisted in midair, trying to claw at his face, but he held her at arm's reach. More men came to stand in a circle around them. More and more hostages filed out, the fewer guards there were to keep an eye on them.

"Is that her?" one asked, speaking English, just as the truck driver had. He nudged her with the cold muzzle of his gun. She hissed, her little heart pounding in terror.

"Of course it is; didn't you read the files?!"

"I don't know, man; a black cat is a black cat is a black cat. They all look alike!"

"Oh, sure, it's just some random stray!" The sarcasm was biting. "Come on; lets get this over with."

"No; she needs to look like herself, or else he'll never believe we really--"

"Someone kiss her!"

Ichigo's heart sank. If they knew that kissing a Mew Mew would revert her to human form, what else did they know? They must have some insider information, to have such vital secrets at their disposal.

The man holding her leaned in, lips puckered. She'd only have one chance before they turned her into a naked, helpless human and put a bullet in her skull. She went limp, dangling from his hand like a sack of meat. Just before his lips made contact, she shot out her claws and raked them, deep, across his eye socket.

He screamed, high and terrible, his head falling back as blood and clear fluid spurt from the ripped lids. He all but threw her to the ground.

She rolled between stomping feet and made her second daring escape; a small black streak returning to the kitchen, past the stoves and walk-in refrigerator and prep counter, to a small manager's office in the back.

It was here where phone calls were made. Where orders were sent and received. Where mail arrived. And, most importantly, where delivery trucks brought crates full of ingredients and equipment. There would be freedom, if she could just get the door open--

From nowhere, a boot shot out and kicked her hard in the side. She felt delicate bones snap as she tumbled, slamming spine-first into the oven door, which cracked behind her.

Dazed, she mewed piteously as the bleeding truck driver knelt before her, smiling savagely. "I still haven't paid you back for what you did to my truck, sweetheart."

The white man with the American accent lifted her paw and leaned forward, crouched over her, and pinned her down with one hand on her neck. When he kissed her paw, her body grew, fur shrinking. He held onto her hand, rubbing her knuckles with a thumb.

"Why are you doing this?" Ichigo choked, tasting the copper tang of blood in her mouth.

"It's not personal, lovely." She was naked, but his eyes didn't stray from her face. He didn't ogle her. Didn't seem to care about her body. "The boss just decided he needed a Mew to study, dead or alive. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Who is your boss?" she asked, desperate to understand. "Who sent you?"

"Shh. Don't you worry." Still smiling, he pressed a hand to her throat. Applied pressure. His elbow locked; his hand around her wrist tightened. His knee came to rest on her hip, keeping her from thrashing.

Her throat fit in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, and he began to strangle her.

Ichigo choked, pressure building behind her eyes until they felt like they'd explode, the entire world tunneling to the space between them. Everything went very quiet. Her heart raced on, as though trying to make up for all the beats it would never have. It had nothing of the warm comfort, the feeling of rightness, of her first death. This was all wrong; all out of her control.

She realized she'd never see her parents again. The other Mews. Masaya. Ryou. Tears filled her eyes. _Zakruo... Mint..._

Another face filled her vision in her last few moments of consciousness: golden eyes narrowed, fangs bared in pure rage.

"You aren't even going to fight?!" Kish was beyond enraged. "You're just going to let this human take your life?! What's wrong with you!"

She wanted to tell him there was nothing more she could do. She was too hurt, too helpless...

"The Ichigo I know was never helpless," he snarled, inches from her face. "Now fight! Back!"

She wriggled her free hand out from under her body. Seized the truck-driver's thumb, from where it was digging in under her jaw. She gave it a yank until it snapped.

He fell away, crying out in pain, as Ichigo heaved for breath, stars dancing in her eyes. As her vision cleared, Kish faded away. She looked around for him, confused. Where had he gone...?  
  
She struggled to shake off her dazed state; to gather enough strength to transform. Her Mew form wasn't made to fight humans, but it was the best defense she had. Kish was right: Ichigo Momomiya did not roll over and die; not for anyone.

Spitting his hatred, the truck driver returned to her, fist cocked. It may not have been personal before, but it sure was now: he would beat her to death for breaking his thumb.

Ichigo cringed, eyes closing. Her hands rose to summon her Strawberry Bell-- but that first blow never landed.

When she dared peek one eye open, she wondered if she might still be hallucinating.

The Blue Knight stood in the kitchen, glowing and regal as a fairy tale; real as life. The motionless truck driver had frozen the moment the blond alien touched a sword to his throat. Everything had gone deathly still.

Meeting Ichigo's stare, the Blue Knight dipped his head in a respectful bow. "Hello, Momomiya-san," he greeted formally. "I was born to protect you. I have never stopped; not even once."


	5. Minto Aizawa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone mind if I just call them "Mint," "Lettuce," etc? We can all just pretend I have the "correct" spellings in...

"He did _what_ to you?!" Mint roared, shoulders back, eyes wild. She'd learned that ever since taking on the DNA of a lorikeet, she often vomited when she became very upset. Apparently it was an avian defense mechanism. Mostly, it was just gross and annoying.

She sure felt like puking now.

Plugged into the car charger, her phone rattled slightly with Ichigo's voice. "Stop interrupting. The American man was strangling me, and then I... I, uh. Broke his thumb."

 _Good_ girl. Mint could have cawed her approval. _Nobody_ put their hands on _her_ friends and lived to tell the tale.

Zakuro drove on, her expression impassive... To anybody who didn't know her well, anyway. Mint could see the quiet rage brewing just behind her eyes. Zakuro felt just as angry about this ambush as Mint did; she was just quieter about it.

"Where the hell is Lettuce?!" Mint demanded, angered that their call was only a three-way; not the four-way it _ought_ to have been.

"I'm still looking for her," Pudding said apologetically. "Her phone is off. Her brother says she's still out--"  
  
"Something fishy's going on with her," Mint growled. "She's been real weird lately... Never home when she should be; always late, always with the dumb excuses..."  
  
Ichigo laughed. _"Lettuce_ is ' _fishy'?!"_

"Shut up, Momomiya."  
  
"Just second ago, you told me to keep talking!"

Zakuro let out a warning growl. The bickering was getting on her nerves. Sure, it was a common pastime for Mint and Ichigo, but now wasn't the time for it.

Mint sighed and massaged her temples, struggling to think. "So, you were attacked by... Americans, who were hired to kidnap you for study and experimentation. They apparently had no problem putting dozens of civilians in danger _just_ to get to you."

"That about sums it up, yes."

"And Aoyama transformed into the Blue Knight to protect you."

"Yes..."

Ichigo's tone took on a worried edge. Good; at least she was taking _something_ seriously.

"And he... He killed the American."

"Yes," Ichigo sighed. "The man driving the truck, the one who's thumb I broke, is dead now. The registry in his truck says his name is Dennis Hanscomb, but that could be a fake, considering I haven't been able to find him on any social media accounts. We've captured the rest of the attackers for questioning. _That's_ when Masaya passed out."

"Masaya. Not the Blue Knight."

"Right... He transformed back to human shortly after, but he's still unconscious."

"Lettuce is here!" Pudding interjected excitedly. "I finally got hold of her. Let me add her to the call..."

Zakuro and Mint exchanged a long look before the wolf turned her eyes back to the dark, winding road they travelled. Mint sighed in grumpy acceptance... As much as she wanted to scream at the aquatic member of their team, it was more important that they all be on the same page first.

"Hello?" Lettuce's soft voice filled their speakers.

"We hear you, Lettuce."

"Pudding, are you certain this is a secure line?"

Mint frowned. That was an odd way to start the conversation...

"I'm sure," Pudding agreed. "It's a one-time conference call, and I'd be alerted if anyone 'outside' tried to listen in."

"Good. Mint and Zakuro, are you driving right now?"

Again, the lovers exchanged a glance. Lettuce sounded... Weird. She sounded like she knew something they didn't.

"We are," Zakuro agreed. "We're going to pick Pudding up from JAXA, and then we're going to meet Ichigo and Masaya and all their Americans."

"Okay." Lettuce took a deep breath. "Here's what I need you to do..."

A minute later, Mint and Zakuro pulled sharply over to the road, complaining of a loud "thump" they'd heard under the hood of their car. Zakuro went out with a flashlight to look at it, then swore when she "accidentally" dropped her purse.

Mint waited with baited breath until Zakuro straightened, looked around under the hood, and returned to the car.

Mint flinched at what she saw in Zakuro's eyes: Panic. She'd apparently found proof that they had trackers on their car. Perhaps even recording devices.

"I don't know what you heard," Zakuro said to Mint, forcing her voice to sound calm. "There's nothing wrong with the hood. You're so stupid sometimes."

Mint flinched again. Under the dashboard, Zakuro touched her knee in apology. She hadn't meant what she said; she simply needed to alert the other girls that all was not okay. Saying something completely out of character, something Zakuro would never mean, was the fastest way to get that information across.

Mint took her hand.  
  
The other girls talked much more carefully now. Ichigo sounded outright nervous, while Lettuce was only resigned. So she'd suspected JAXA's foul play for a while now, then.  
  
"Pudding," said Mint, trying to sound grumpy. "Can you just come out when we drive by? We don't have time to park and escort your butt out..."  
  
Pudding, bless her, faked a whine in her voice. "Oh, fine! You don't have to be so rude about it..."  
  
"You might want to bring some stuff to play with, little monkey. This might take a while." _This might take forever. We might never come back. Something's rotten in the state of Denmark, Horatio._  
  
"I'll pack a snack-and-toy bag!"

The rest of the ride to JAXA was a tense one, as was waiting on the fringes of the parking lot closest to their rooms. It was a large and sprawling property, with multiple buildings and several parking lots. Even forewarned, it still took precious minutes for Pudding to hurry to them. To dive into the backseat.

Mint admired Zakuro's steadiness. If she were the one driving, she'd've peeled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell before Pudding even closed the door. As it was, Zakuro only reversed out of the lot and returned to the road at a sedate pace, not looking in the least bit hurried.

Pudding looked like she wanted to say something, but Mint gave a sharp shake of her head. Not yet. Not now that they knew they were being tracked. Pudding pulled a toy clown out of her backpack instead, holding it tight to her chest for comfort.

Her ears and tail were out, and as she curled up, her long tail coiled protectively around her small body.

With a sigh, Mint reached behind herself and took Pudding's hand, squeezing it tight. They would be okay. They _would,_ if she had to ensure it herself.

Ignoring the GPS's cheerful instructions, Zakuro took a few unexpected turns before heading down a secluded, one-way street, made dark by the tall trees and lack of streetlights. All three women waited for Lettuce's next instructions.

Not ten yards off, a pair of headlights glowed bright... Facing the wrong direction.

 _"What_ the--" was all Zakuro managed to growl, before the oncoming truck slammed into them with the force only an old-fashioned tanker could deliver, sending Mint's little hybrid crashing off-road.

They screamed, thrashing. The airbags deployed. Mint felt as though her seatbelt would surely choke her to death once the car stopped spinning... Who knew anything in the world could be so _loud?!  
_

She only registered that the crashing had stopped when she heard Pudding's sobs; heard Zakuro's steady snarl. They were upside-down in a ditch, their seatbelts the only thing keeping them from hitting the dented roof of the car. Her ears still rang on and on.

Glancing at her girlfriend, Mint could only just see the outline of Mint's silhouette in the reflection of the headlights. She'd bulked up considerably; all fur and fang and claws. "S-sweetheart..." Mint gasped, her voice shaky and afraid. She cleared her throat and put on her bravest voice, her toughest face. "Zakuro. Snap out of it!"

Hurried footsteps approached. Zakuro, with her canine hearing, noticed it first. Her growls became a roaring snarl. She snapped, elongated jaws slathering.

"It's only me!" Lettuce knelt, looking at them through the passenger window. "Ooh... Oh, I didn't think he would hit you so _hard..._ How badly are you hurt?!"

Mint was bleeding, she realized. There was a large gash across her chest, seeping through the silk of her top. She must've cut herself on glass from the windshield. Whatever; it didn't matter _._ More importantly... "Pudding? Pudding, are you..."

A long-haired monkey crept forward, clinging to the headrest of Mint's seat. With dexterous fingers, Pudding released Mint's seatbelt. She fell with a thud against the roof of the car. Lettuce reached in through the side window and grabbed Mint by the armpits, dragging her into the grassy knoll they'd come to rest in. Pudding crawled out after her.

"You could've warned us you were gonna try and _kill_ us," Mint snapped when Lettuce turned to try and free Zakuro. "What were you thinking?!"

 _"I_ didn't crash into you," Lettuce replied, straining to release Zakuro's seatbelt buckle. She couldn't reach. Pudding-the-monkey had to take care of it for her. "I'm driving the getaway car."

"Then who did?!" Mint wanted very badly to grab Lettuce and throw her down. To slap her until she started talking sense. She stuck her hands in her armpits before they could betray her with violence.

With a grunt, a wolf wriggled out through the passenger window and went straight for Mint, putting her body protectively between her mate's and Lettuce's. Mint, shaking, picked shards of glass out of Zakuro's coarse fur.

"I did," said a man from the top of the hill. "And I might need your help in a minute... Modern cars protect passengers from crashes far better than old-fashioned trucks..."

Zakuro looked up first, but Mint didn't need a dog's nose to smell the blood in the air. Whoever was speaking was hurt _bad,_ dragging himself across the road to peer down at them.

Lettuce hopped to her feet, climbing back from the ditch to attend to him. "Oh, no," she breathed. "No, no, no..."

"I'll be okay," the man grunted when Lettuce rolled him over and began to administer first aid. "I've got some stuff in the glove compartment, if you can get to it... Just inject it into my thigh? I'll be fine in a few minutes; just stop the bleeding so it has a chance to work."

Mint's shaking gradually eased. She peeked around Zakuro's broad shoulder, straining her neck to peer up the ditch. She couldn't see very well, but she didn't need to. That was a familiar voice. A voice she hadn't heard in many years.

The voice of a man who was supposed to be in hiding.

When Zakuro stood and started to climb, Mint kept an arm on her back, limping at her side. Pudding hopped onto the beast's back.

Together, the four Mews carried Ryou Shirogane into Lettuce's getaway van, leaving the two destroyed vehicles behind.


End file.
